because through it all, i have always loved you
by the-speed-reader
Summary: She struggles, using her free hand to jerk up to try and slap him. He blocks it though, and stoops himself down to be level with her. "Skye," he whispers, harsh and low. "I'm getting you off this plane." / An AU in which Ward decides to let Skye go. For SkyeWard week.


_I've abandoned you guys in the past couple months and I'm really sorry; my life's been just going to hell and everything's a mess and I've got an insane case of writer's block. I wrote this in a car on the way back from a trip to the mountains, and honestly - it's not my best. But it's SkyeWard week, so I tried. And that's all I can do at the moment._

_This is an AU set place in 1x20, **Nothing Personal**, in which Coulson didn't make it onto the jet in time and Ward decided to help Skye escape instead. I have no idea how this popped into my head but it did, and I took the idea because I have nothing else at the moment._

_This one is for my best friend, the girl who I honestly could not live with out. I miss you, C. So much._

_Just tell me what you guys think. _

* * *

"_You love me. Real or not real?"_  
_I tell him, "Real._"

-Suzanne Collins

* * *

His hands are trembling violently as he reaches for the metal lock, flickering the pads of his fingers over the numbers. There's a click, signaling it's unlock, but he pauses then; instead of changing his mind though, as he might have done before, he takes a shuddering breath and pushes the door open.

The room is cooler than when he was in here before, but he's got no time to dwell on that before he's slipping it, his shoes clinking against the floor. His eyes search, almost desperately, for what he's looking for. But then he sees her, tiny and wide eyed, staring up at him.

When he reaches for her she flinches back, the corner of her boot nearly catching the edge of her chair. She backs up even more, her mouth parted as if to yell for help. As if to scream. But then, almost as if she realizes that there's no one else around, she closes it.

She speaks then, her voice low and chocked. "Get out."

He steps forward, shaking his head. His internal alarm is blaring at him, telling him that he is running out of time. They'd be arriving at their destination within half an hour and he needs her to be off the plane by then. Safe.

"No," he says, before he's grasping her upper arm and pulling her towards him. She struggles, using her free hand to jerk up to try and slap him. He blocks it though, and stoops himself down to be level with her. "Skye," he whispers, harsh and low. "I'm getting you off this plane."

She's almost frozen for a second, stunned into place. But then her expression morphs into one of disbelief — and the tiniest bit of hope. "I don't believe you," she hisses. "You're a monster."

"So are you," he shoots back. There's an aching in his chest as he says those words, watches her face crumple with hurt. He has to brush it off though. "I know you don't trust me, but Skye; I never meant for you to get hurt." He turns his head back, anxiously. "_Please_."

After a few terrifying seconds, she nods slowly, her eyes dark. He bites his lip, nearly drawing blood, a brush of relief filling him. He releases her then, before motioning for her to follow him, drawing one finger to his lips.

They pass Deathlok on the way out, lying unconscious in the doorway of the cockpit. He hears her gasp as she sees the man she once knew as good, but he forces himself to ignore it. He slips into the pilot's seat, taking it off autopilot. The telltale creak of her in the co-pilot's seat beside him appears. He doesn't look at her as he flies, only takes the occasional glance to make sure the man behind them is still knocked out.

He lands the plane in a little field outside of a small town whose name he can hardly remember, but the moment the rough landing is finished he's up, his feet pounding into the ground. She follows him as he leads her outside.

With trembling hands (they never stopped) he hands her money, an ID, and a pistol. He forces himself to breathe as she looks at her new identity, the one that will get her back for Coulson and the team.

But then she looks up and stares at him, her fingers clenching into the items as if they were the last thing she would ever touch.

(He hopes, _prays_, that they aren't, that she will stay safe. Away from Garrett. Away from _him_.)

"Ward," she whispers, her face tilted up as if to fully memorize his features. "Why?"

He takes a moment, but when he speaks, he's unable to keep his voice from cracking. "I can't loose you too," he forces out. He owes her at least this, after everything that's happened. After everything he's done. "You — you were never supposed to be caught in the crossfire."

She nods then, carefully, but recognition crosses her features. "I'm leaving now," she says slowly. "Okay?"

It's then he realizes that his hand is intertwined in hers, with him clutching her fingers as if he would never let go. With a knot in his chest he releases her, watches as she turns and runs away from him. Away from danger.

Hopefully.

_She'll be safe, _he tells himself. _Coulson and May will protect her. She'll be fine._

He turns when she's out of his sight. But suddenly there's a gun at his face as he's stepping back onto the platform and he freezes. It's Dealthlok, wide awake with fury written all over his features.

"Where is she?" the Deathlok demands. When he doesn't answer, the gun is jabbed into his chest. "What have you done with her?"

"She's safe," he whispers. "She's gone."

The man's expression seems frozen onto his face. After a moment though, Dealthok speaks again. "I have orders from Garrett to bring you in."

He nods. "I know." He prepares himself to be knocked unconscious, tensing. But it doesn't happen, and after a tense moment Dealthok turns his face away, to the side.

"I'm letting you go," the other man swears, and Grant freezes. "Go," Dealthok barks, and then Grant's turning, running away. But he swears he hears the shell of a good man say, "Keep her safe."

* * *

He catches up to her a few miles away from the town. She's walking briskly, her head bowed, her hands in her pockets. But she clearly hears the footsteps behind him and suddenly for the second time in an hour there's a gun at his face.

She realizes it's him then, and her eyes widen. "Grant," she says. "What—"

He looks at her, keeping his expression blank. "Dealthlok let me go," he speaks before clearing his throat. "We need to hurry. Hydra will be all over this place within an hour."

She doesn't lower the gun though, and he swears. "Skye—"

"How do I know this isn't another trick? How do I know that you only let me go to try and capture me again?" The words spill out of her mouth quickly and it takes a moment for him to respond.

"It isn't," he promises. "I would never hurt you."

She glaring at him. "I can't trust you."

He nods, but doesn't speak. She could shoot him at any moment, and he wouldn't blame her. Not after all that's happened.

But she lowers the gun, and he breathes out. He's no longer shaking. He jerks his head up then, when he's regained his composure. "C'mon. I know a place that we can get a car from."

She jerks an eyebrow, but then just glares at him. "You mean steal, don't you?"

He nods, ignoring how the sickly feeling in his stomach dissipates when she resigns and gives him a small smile.

* * *

They miss the Hydra agents by minutes, squealing out of the town in a large white truck with a decoy license plate. They're careful to avoid the police and try to stay within the guidelines of the speed limit, but he's too tense and it's too quiet for him to really try and stay out of trouble.

He brings them to an old apartment of his, one that neither SHIELD of Hydra knows about. She gives him a questioning look but follows him as he deadbolts the door with such harshness that he's shaking.

(But then he realizes that it's not any of those reasons that he's trembling. It's _her_.)

She gives him a soft look, dumping her jacket along with the items he had given her on a worn coffee table before turning to the kitchen and beginning a search for food. His own stomach chooses at that moment to growl, so he resigns himself to look with her.

When they're both seated on the couch a gentle distance away from each other, bowls of soup in hand, he clears his throat and speaks. "What now?"

She pauses her fork about half a foot away from her mouth before lowering it back down, eyeing him. Her fingers curl. "Coulson was supposed to be on that plane," she says. "But I don't think he made it in time. I checked. He probably regrouped with the rest of the team."

"And where are they?"

She doesn't hesitate as she names a place he knows well, but he only nods in reply and otherwise says silent. He finishes his food before her, setting on the table before sitting back and staring at her.

She beautiful, he notices. But then again, she always has been. A pain of guilt rushes through him but he pushes it back. He can't afford to feel emotion. Not now.

When she finishes she sets her bowl beside his, before looking back up and drawing her knees to her chest. Their eyes link and a rush of nostalgia fills him, despite his attempts to stop it. She's so innocent. So pure.

She blinks and he's unable to stop himself from reaching towards her, one hand landing carefully on hers. Her eyes are dark, but she doesn't flinch when he touches her, linking his fingers through hers. This gives him courage to wrap his other hand gently around the back of her neck, pulling her close to him.

When their lips met, slowly and gently, the ache in his chest unraveling. She gasps, her own hands going to his chest. She allows him to pull her closer, as close as he can, relishing the feeling of her against him. He's missed her.

They break apart an innumerable about of moments later; she's almost straddling him and he's clutching her as if she would never leave his arms. He takes a shuddering breath, and for the first time in forever, he _breathes._

"Skye," he chokes. "I'm so, so sorry."

There's tears slipping down his cheeks now, but she raises a hand and brushes them off his cheeks carefully. "It's alright," she whispers. "I'm here."

And when he kisses her again, he swears to the depths of his soul that he'll get her out of this. He'll keep them both safe.

* * *

_to **AlmostSweaterWeather**: I'm so, so sorry, but I don't know when I'll be able to post a continuation. I loved seeing your request (it made me so happy and god, I needed that) but I'm just not sure. I'm sorry. It's been months, but I hope that I'll be able to continue or post more when the second season of AOS airs, because right now I've got no ideas._


End file.
